


Homemade Dynamite

by whimsicality



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/F, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Sexual Content, Supernatural Shenanigans, Women Being Awesome, basically a fluffier version of how it could have gone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:37:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicality/pseuds/whimsicality
Summary: In another world Valentine died in his attempt to steal the Mortal Cup. Jocelyn and Luke fled, determined to raise Clary away from the world that had brought such pain and learned so little from it.Clary is an art student, entirely unaware of the shadow world, until a chance encounter with a beautiful girl and a pair of demons changes everything.





	Homemade Dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by Lorde.
> 
> I don't intend for this to be super long or plotty, and plan for a minimum of angst and drama. Just a shorter, sweeter, gayer way for Clary to discover her heritage in a more peaceful world.

The whole thing was Clary’s idea so really it’s her fault. 

She’d been the one to suggest the graphic novel club host a fundraiser for the Art Institute’s scholarship fund by auctioning off the work of local artists. And she’d been the one to lobby the school for approval, and head the committee to pick a date and location, and find artists (starting with her mother), so of course she’d also been the first to volunteer to hand out flyers to students and community members to boost event attendance.

She hadn’t counted on the quad being strangely dead, or the unusually chill breeze for an April afternoon which left her shivering, wishing for a coat, and clutching tightly to the flyers so they didn’t blow away and get her another reprimand from the groundskeeper. Last fall’s installation project fiasco was totally _not_ her fault. Unlike this waste of an afternoon.

A girl appears on the other side of the grassy lawn, heading in her direction, and Clary perks up—finally, some action! As the girl gets closer Clary’s smile brightens. She’s gorgeous, wearing a dark leather outfit Clary didn’t think people could pull off in real life, with deep red tattoos curling intricately around her neck and wrists. Maybe if she writes her number on the back of a flyer, she can get a date to the fundraiser instead of just another check on the guest list.

The girl looks like she’s going to veer around Clary, and Clary steps forward to prevent it, holding out a flyer. She’s very proud of them, designed and colored them herself, each one a continuation of an endless fibonacci spiral. 

“Hello! Are you interested in a community art event to support scholarship students?”

The girl stares at her, eyes wide, and Clary wonders if people are usually too intimidated to approach her. The leather is intense, she’ll admit, but intimidation is definitely not _her_ first reaction to the picture the girl presents.

“You can see me?” she asks, and Clary frowns.

“Yes? Am I not supposed to? You’re not one of the modern art students are you, because if you’re not in a bodysuit I don’t have to pretend you’re not there.”

The girl looks confused, a line appearing between her perfectly shaped eyebrows that makes Clary’s fingers itch with the urge to smooth it away. “I have no idea what that means. I’m invisible, you shouldn’t be able to see me.”

Clary tilts her head to the side and gives the girl a lingering glance from head to toe, then back up again. “Oh trust me, I can see you,” she says with a wink. “My imagination is not this talented.”

That startles a laugh out of the girl, her lips curving into a wide smile as she peers at Clary through lowered lashes. “I think I like you, impossible girl.”

Clary grins, about to suggest they continue this conversation in a more date-like setting, when suddenly she’s on the ground, chest stinging from the force of the girl’s hands. The silver bracelet on the girl’s wrist has become a hissing snake whip, a glowing blade appearing in her other hand as a shadowed figure leaps at her with a snarl.

A head turns to look at Clary, sniffing the air; she sees it’s flayed open mouth, flaps of teeth and skin writhing with menace. _What the hell_. She’s pretty sure she turned down her roommate’s offer of acid last weekend but suddenly doubts her memory.

This can’t be real.

The thing, monster, whatever it is, leaps toward her, foul, hot breath washing over her face, and she knows it’s real with every terror stricken inch of her body. Silver coils around its neck, pulling it backwards and flinging it into a park bench with a clang and a shriek of claws on metal. The girl is standing over Clary, fierce and beautiful, whip still outstretched as she darts a worried glance in Clary’s direction.

“You all right, impossible girl?”

Clary barks out a laugh, half amusement and all terror. “I am so not the person who deserves that nickname right now.”

A snarl rumbles through the air, that tearing screech of claws on metal piercing through her head like a railroad spike. The girl moves, grace and strength in every line of her body as she snaps the whip in her hand, hitting the demon with a sharp crack as it hisses in anger. Another one appears, misshapen and radiating evil that Clary can feel in her bones. She cries out a warning and winces as the second monster impacts against the girl’s side with a thud, almost knocking her to the ground. The glowing blade in her hand falls into the grass and winks out.

The girl clearly knows what she’s doing and Clary has no business involving herself, but she grimly crawls toward the blade anyway. She can’t do _nothing_ , she doesn’t know how. 

The girl wraps her whip around the throat of the first monster, kicking the other one away and onto its back. Clary grabs the blade’s hilt, surprised by the cold, glass-like substance, and stares as the blade flares to life with a glow vivid even on this sunny spring day. 

Before she can figure out what to do with the weapon now that she has it, the second creature is on top of her, knocking the breath out of her lungs with its weight. She thrusts upwards, a reflex that feels like muscle memory even though she’s never wielded anything larger than a steak knife before. The creatures lets out a piercing scream and explodes into a shower of golden sparks. A moment later the other one follows, the life literally squeezed out of it. Seriously, _what the hell._

The mystery girl falls to her knees next to Clary, scanning her with a professional gaze that’s belied by the warm smile on her face. “That was impressive. Are you sure you’re a mundane?”

Clary stares up at her, still seeing impossible golden sparks, and shakes her head. “If I knew what that was I could tell you. Who _are_ you? What just happened?”

“Demons. I was tracking them.” The girl pulls Clary to her feet, the touch of her skin sending shivers down Clary’s spine for a far better reason than cold or fear. “I wondered why they headed here, not their usual turf, but maybe…” she trails off, staring at Clary with a look she can’t quite interpret. “I’m Isabelle, Isabelle Lightwood.”

“Nice to meet you, Isabelle. I’m Clary Fray,” Clary says with a bright smile. “Now please tell me you don’t mean actual _demons_. That’s not, that’s not possible, is it?”

“You tell me, Clary Fray, you just killed one after all,” Isabelle responds with a smirk that should not be so attractive, given the circumstances. All the breath leaves Clary’s lungs, her chest heaving as if the creature was sitting on top of her again. 

Holy shit. She just killed a _demon_.


End file.
